


Solutions

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Belle's apartment is broken into three times, Gold attempts to come up with a way for her to feel safer. Rumple/Belle-centric with some Rumple/Charming bromance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solutions

Belle's apartment had been broken into three times in as many months. Gold is starting to get worried. Well, that's not exactly true. Gold panicked the first time it happened and staked out her place for well over a week before Belle insisted he stop sleeping in his car and just go home already. Not much of value had been taken. The only thing of any value she owned was the first edition copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ Gold had given her. She was upset to lose it, but she was safe and that was the most important thing.

The second time they broke in, the book had been returned, like Belle's apartment was someone's personal library. Belle had been amused. Gold had been puzzled. The likely reality was that the person who stole it realized they could make no money off it, even though it was worth quite a bit. They couldn't leave town and the only place to sell such a thing was Gold's pawn shop. Due to Belle's association with him, that was best avoided. So the book had been returned.

After the third time someone broke in (this time taking nothing, which was both odd and ominous at the same time), Gold knew he had to do something to protect her. Something _other_ than living in his car outside the library, that is.

His first thought was to insist she return with him to his house. But he knew she wouldn't want that. Belle was relishing her freedom, having her own space. She had never lived on her own, not back home and not here. She went right from under her father's thumb to the Dark Castle. She gained her freedom for only a short bit before ending up as Regina's prisoner, both back home and in Storybrooke and ultimately ended up living with him when freed from the curse. This was her first taste of just being _her_ and he wasn't going to take that away from her, not even for her own protection.

So he went to Plan B.

He gives her a cell phone and shows her how to use it. He's pre-programmed the Sheriff's office number into the phone and shows her how to use it to call Emma.

"She'll be here in moments if you call her," he tells her and she practices dialing the phone, calling Emma twice before he tells her she's got the hang of it and sets the phone down on the side table.

When he stops by two days later for tea, she ushers him in and he realizes she's on the phone with Emma and, from the sounds of the conversation, has been for some time. She assures him everything is just fine. Apparently she had been calling her ever since he left her with the phone and Emma, the Gods love her, has been telling her far too much about everything she didn't need to know.

"She told me about how she became Sheriff," Belle says, a gleam in her eyes.

"Did she now?" Gold asks her. The story was a convoluted mess, typical Rumpelstiltskin manipulation at its best (or worst, depending on who you asked). Emma had been none too fond of his tactics, but it had gotten the girl what she wanted, after all. What right did she have to complain?

"She did." The smirk hasn't left her face. "Ruby tells me you scare everyone in town." She waggles a finger in his face and he grips her hand, pulling it away from him before she accidentally pokes one of his eyes.

"Ruby?"

Belle nods. "She gave me her number."

Clearly this phone thing was not working out quite the way he had intended. "That phone was supposed to be for emergencies," he says with a growl. But the indulgent smile on his face tells the whole story. He is charmed she's making friends, even if those friends had some pretty awful stories to tell about him. _She knows who you are, nothing to worry about there…really…_

His next idea is to give her some sort of weapon, something she could use to at least threaten someone if he broke in while she was home. He arrives one evening with a gorgeous pocket knife in hand. The handle is textured wood with an inlay of pearl. The blade is sharp and moves easily into and out of the handle. It's small, easily will fit into her dainty hand, but the 4-inch blade is most certainly threatening.

He shows her how to use it and tells her to keep it on her at all times. She agrees, tucking it into the pocket of her voluminous skirt and smiling innocently at him. He knew she'd never actually hurt someone with it, but he hoped it would be enough to scare someone off if it suddenly appeared in her hand.

Three days later he has been invited for dinner to her place. Belle had never been an expert in the kitchen, but like with everything else she did, she tries hard. He never could forget some of the very, well, _interesting_ meals she had served him at the castle. He arrives a half hour earlier than their appointed time, bottle of wine in hand, and finds Belle still cutting onions in the kitchen.

Swooping up behind her, he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. It's a comfortable place for him to be and he tells her to carry on.

She does and so he looks down, content to watch her hands as she works.

"Is that the knife I gave you?" His voice sounds dismayed, a bit more so than he was hoping it did.

She turns her face toward him and gives him a sheepish look. "It cuts vegetables better than any of my other knives." He groans.

"You'll dull the blade," he admonishes her.

"Oh," she says and turns awkwardly to give him a kiss on his cheek before returning to her task. A moment later she is hissing in pain as the knife slips slightly and bites into her thumb instead of the onion.

Immediately he removes the knife from her hand and leads her to the sink to run water over the cut. It's not deep, but it clearly hurts. He hunts up bandages in her bathroom and takes care of wrapping her thumb carefully.

Apparently the knife isn't going to work either. Belle never notices when he pockets it himself. He's sure she'll wonder eventually what happened to her great vegetable-cutting knife.

A week later, he is driving Belle deep into the woods on the outskirts of town and she is questioning his sanity. "People don't go out here unless they want to murder someone."

"Or for trysts," he mutters.

"Trysts?" She looks at him and he briefly glances her way, one eyebrow raised. Her eyes get huge. "Oh… _trysts_."

He laughs and for a moment he _almost_ sounds like the Rumpelstiltskin she fell in love with, insane giggles and all. "We're not here for that," he's quick to assure her.

"Oh."

He can't help but notice she almost seems disappointed. His Belle…always a surprise, even to the one who knew her better than anyone else.

They arrive at a clearing and he pulls the car off the dirt road they've been following and stops. He walks to her side of the car and offers his free hand to her as she gets out, leading her some 50 or more feet away from the car.

"We're here for target practice."

Belle remembers the bow from so many years ago, the one with the arrow that always hits its target, and wonders how she might be able to fire on someone in the tiny apartment she calls home.

But it's not a bow that he pulls out of his pocket. It's something much smaller, compact.

"It's a modern weapon, Belle," he says, noting her confused look. "A gun. It's capable of firing a tiny piece of metal at an incredibly fast speed and with deadly accuracy."

"I don't want to kill anyone." She steps away from the weapon, hands held up in front of her as if she can ward off any sort of magic the weapon might possess.

"You don't have to," he assures her. "Often simply showing someone you have one of these will stop them, especially if they’re only looking to borrow your books." His crooked smile reassures her and she steps closer again, taking the weapon from his hand when he offers it to her.

He shows her how to remove the safety from the gun and how to aim. He hasn't set up any official targets as he knows she's not likely to hit anything this early in her attempts. "Now all you have to do is aim and pull this trigger. That will release the bullet and send it flying to the target." He warns her to be aware of any sort of kick-back as these weapons are quite powerful.

Belle does as he says, raising the gun up high, perhaps a bit higher than she needs to, and aiming it at a tree in the distance. When she pulls the trigger, she jerks her hand to the side and then drops the gun.

Gold winces. The bullet strikes the side of his car, thankfully not in any place that would mean they'd have to walk out of the woods. But it was a lovely car, expensive. And it's not like he could easily procure another one since he couldn't actually leave the town limits.

"Sorry," Belle murmurs and before she can lean over to pick up the gun, he has it in his hand. He's not sure this is the best idea he's had, but pushes forward. Plans B and C have failed. Perhaps Plan D would work out better.

This time he stands directly behind her, placing his hand over hers to steady it on the weapon. He shows her again how to aim ( _not_ at his car) and holds her hand as she pulls the trigger. The shot goes wide and she again drops the gun in surprise.

After several frustrating attempts, he manages to get her to keep the gun in hand after she fires the shot, but she continues to jerk her hand oddly when pulling the trigger and each bullet has gotten nowhere near her target.

It would take him months to teach her to be even a somewhat steady shot. _Definitely_ not his best idea. "What am I going to do with you?" How could he protect her when she almost needed more protecting from _herself_ than any would-be robbers?

"Maybe I just need a cane," she says and he swats her lightly with it.

"I don't think so dearie."

No phones, no knives, no guns. He is almost out of ideas and this is how he ends up standing in front of David Nolan's animal shelter. It's nearing closing hour for the place and he can see David starting to turn off the lights, readying himself to lock down and head home.

Knowing that he's about to be an inconvenience, he steps through the door.

"We're about to close," David says before looking up. When his eyes fall on Gold, he looks puzzled. "Rent isn't due until next week."

"I'm not here for the rent," Gold scoffs, looking somewhat scornfully around the sad looking place.

"Then what _are_ you here for?" David is always short with him. He finds it frustrating. He led him to his true love, even clothed him as a proper prince should be attired, but he never ceased to treat him like he was scum on the bottom of his shoe.

He mutters the words and it's clear David hasn't heard a word he's said.

"I'm sorry…what?" the infuriating man says.

"I need a dog…a bloody _dog_." He grips his cane harder.

"Whoa…what?" This wasn't going well. "Why do you want a dog? You don't really seem like the dog type."

"It's not for me." He waved a hand dismissively in the air. "It's for Belle. Her place has been broken into multiple times. She needs protection."

"Why not a gun?"

Gold snorts. Actually _snorts_. "Tried that. Let's just say it didn't go that well." And he waves his hand at the window.

David's eyes follow the direction Gold's hand indicates. "She shot your car?"

"Indeed she did. And before you ask, she did almost as well with a knife. She narrowly missed needing stitches." For a moment, the two men fall into an almost companionable silence.

"Alright." David sighs. "What kind of dog do you want for her?"

Gold thinks for a moment. He hadn't really considered this. When he imagined Belle with a dog, it was with something small, dainty, fragile. But that wouldn't do for protection unless she was being attacked by a butterfly. "Something large, fierce. Something that will scare off her attackers."

David tilts his head slightly to the side and raises an eyebrow at Gold. "Oh come on, Gold. You know that any dog Belle gets she'll turn into a big mushball. Just look at what she's done to you!" He waves a hand at him.

Gold grips his cane tightly. "She has done no such thing to me."

"No? She hasn't? Really? The Rumpelstiltskin _I_ know wouldn't walk into an animal shelter and look for a dog for his girl. Hell, the Rumpelstiltskin _I_ know wouldn't _have_ a girl." And Gold remembers his shock at finding out he'd once been in love. The amusement _almost_ outweighed his annoyance over the reaction.

"Fine, fine, whatever. Just…show me what you have here."

David leads him to the back, still seeming to be somewhat mystified over this unexpected turn of events. Gold suspects that before he's even left the place, the rumors of his adopting a dog for his girl would be all over town. Small towns had their charms. This was not one of them.

They walk the aisles and it's increasingly obvious Gold has no idea what he's looking for or what would be right for this situation.

"Does she know you're getting her a dog?"

Gold shoots him a look and David knows not to inquire further. Normally he wouldn't even adopt a dog to someone who was getting it for someone else. But this was Gold. And Belle. He couldn't exactly say no to Gold and he knew that Belle would ultimately take very good care of anything given to her, especially if this man gave it to her. What she saw in him had always confounded David (and, admittedly, everyone _else_ in town), but it was there and obviously strong enough to survive some awful things (including, if he admitted it to himself, what the imp once looked like) and years of separation. 

"What about this one?" David stops in front of a cage and Gold looks to read the tag.

Gold scoffs. "The dog is 10 years old and practically decrepit. How is that going to keep her safe?"

David shoots him a look. "You beat people with that cane of yours."

"Are you calling me old and decrepit?" His voice is pitched low, dangerous.

David simply laughs and moves on. They view several dogs of varying sizes and temperaments. Gold rejects them all.

The Great Dane would outweigh her (and him too, if he wanted to be honest with himself). The scruffy terrier mix is certainly fierce, but has aggression issues. The Lab mix is too friendly. The Chihuahua is too small.

David is getting more and more exasperated until finally, Gold notices the puppy in the last cage. He's huddling in the back, looks a little frightened, with large brown eyes and floppy ears. "That one," Gold says, pointing one long finger at the cage.

"Really?" David picks up the card on the cage. "He's only 10 weeks old, some sort of pit bull mix, found by Henry on a walk in the forest."

"Pit bulls," Gold mutters. He remembers reading about them in his very brief internet search for the right sort of guard dog. "They have quite the fearsome reputation."

David's eyes narrow slightly. "They do. But it's unwarranted."

One of Gold's eyebrows shoots up. "Is that so?"

"Yes. They're great dogs. Smart. They love their people with everything in them, a bit protective. They're pretty misunderstood out there in the 'real world.' People think they're vicious when they're really just big mushballs."

A mischievous grin is plastered across Gold's face. "Then clearly I must have this dog for Belle." He indicates to David that he should open the cage door and as he does so, Gold surprises him by kneeling on the ground. The puppy comes bounding out, skidding right past David and into Gold's arms.

"Why this one, Gold?" David is as surprised by Gold's reaction to the puppy as he is by the puppy's reaction to Gold. The puppy had been there a week and David had had to carry him out of the cage every time he took him out. He had never shown such exuberance before.

Gold hooks the proffered leash up to the puppy's collar and stands slowly, using his cane and the bars of the cage for balance. "He reminds me of _me_." He knows Belle will love this misunderstood puppy with her whole heart. He knows this is the right choice.

He presents the puppy to her that very evening (as if he was going to keep a 10-week-old puppy with no house training at his place!), and as he suspected, she falls instantly in love with him. When he tells her about their reputation she kneels on the floor and hugs the puppy tighter, grinning up at him. "Sounds like someone else I know. Maybe I should name him after you."

He kneels down next to her and leans in close. "When you call my name, I am _not_ going to have a dog come running too." She laughs and punches him lightly on the shoulder. He feigns hurt and falls over on his side. Instantly the puppy is on him, tongue lapping at his face.

Belle is laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks as he tries to extricate himself from the puppy. He finally manages to stand, attempting to look serious, but finds Belle laughing even harder.

"It's hard to take you seriously when your hair looks like that and your face is all wet from puppy kisses." She leaps up and wipes his face with the tissue that has suddenly appeared in her hand. Leaning forward she kisses him lightly on the lips and then he finds himself enveloped in one of her lovely hugs. "Thank you," she murmurs in his ear. "I'll feel safe with little Rumple here."

"Oh no, you're not naming him Rumple. You only get _one_ of those in your life." He growls the words at her, but she knows it's just in play.

"Gaston?"

"No."

"Gus?"

Gold's look is confused. "Gus? Why Gus?"

"I knew a Gus once…"

"No."

She grins. And the crinkle in her brow shows how hard she's thinking. Finally, her face lights up and Gold steels himself for her ultimate choice. "Chip!" she exclaims.

Chip? He doesn't understand at first and it's not until she picks up one of the many teacups she's left sitting around her apartment that he understands.

She speaks quietly, almost reverently, a soft smile playing about her lips. "In honor of our chipped cup."

He can't help but return her smile. He is truly the luckiest man in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "puppy love" for the love_bingo community on Livejournal.


End file.
